torsdag 30 maj 2013

Here, hoodie, hoodie, hoodie...

Most of the
time, I just buy random fabrics, like candy, and have no idea what they will be used for. The
notion of a huge wool stash (and the knowledge that you have more material than
you will probably have time to use up in a Very Long Time) is oddly pleasing,
and most likely primeval too. This is my inner cavewoman sitting back with a
sigh of relief, now that she knows she has enough of, eh, everything, to
survive the winter.

Other projects you dream about before you find the right materials, and my
latest one is a bit of both – a small 14th century red woolen hood
lined with fox fur. The red fabric I bought with this exact hood in mind. The fur comes from my mother’s old 70’s coat, which has
long outlived its original use, but nevertheless has warmed me through a series
of very cold winter LARPs back in the 1990s. I don’t see myself ever wearing it
in its present state again, but in order to pay my respects to the fluffy
critters who died to provide the fur, I continue to reuse, reuse, reuse for as
long as I can. The body of the coat will be trimmed down and used to line a
dress – the sleeves were just large enough to be made into a hood lining.

I have a
hood pattern that Maria gave me, for one of those super-tight hoods that you can barely slide back off
your head while it is still buttoned. I have made several, but never lined one
before, so this time I cut it a bit more generously to accommodate all the
extra bulk.

Cutting fur
items is a downright pain if you’re not used to it. I am not used to it. The
sharpest tool in the house turned out to be my eating knife, which I have
sharpened obsessively since Alex gave me a whetstone, unlike the disposable
utility knives I figured I’d use. Trying to follow a squiggly line when cutting
“in the air” with no support is an inexact practice at best. There is fur
everywhere, despite my best efforts. Fortunately the fox was old and somewhat
brittle, and parts of it tore like paper rather than leather.

This is the
hood toile.

And this is
my ridiculously honed eating knife.

Lining
pieces sewn together. I used white silk to fasten the two gores.

Jondalar’s
relax kit: dead fox + iPhone.

Stitching
the hood together, using red silk. So far the process held no surprises, and
was pretty straightforward.

The shell and lining was supposed to match up but they really didn't,
so the whole fit became a bit meh until I decided not to stitch up the bottom hem.

I put the
two hood pieces together with some really hideous, crooked stitches. The plan
is (always) to have as little visible stitching as possible, except for
buttonholes and the like. These will eventually be hidden.

Ugly
stitches from the outside. Some of the fur crept out with the thread. Eh.

Face
opening turned back on itself, to hide both the stitches and the fabric
edge.

Here I’ve
started to hide the fold around the face opening with an embroidered braid made
from the madder yarn. Read more about this neat finishing in Ida's blog post, or in my tutorial. Tip: pin the
work in progress to your pants to keep it in place in your lap while you’re
working.

The raw fur edge on the inside is hidden with another braid.

The bottom
edge of the hood is hemmed with a heddle-woven band.

First I
meant to use brass buttons, that I bought in Morimondo right next to the stall
of another vendor who tried to sell my husband a lovely ceramic jug. They had
no language in common, so the Spouse eventually managed to convey “It’s lovely,
but I live in Sweden and there’s no way I can bring this back with me on the
plane” by flapping his arms to illustrate “flight” and say “Bappeti boopeti –
problema!” Before I started to make holes that would accommodate the metal
buttons, I realized they would not provide enough friction to keep the hood
closed – there is a lot of strain on them since the hood is so tight. I ended up
making ordinary cloth buttons instead.

Button
holes edged with red silk, and pin marks where the buttons will go.

Finished buttons.

Inside of the fastening.

The option
was “no liripipe” or “really fancy liripipe” so I went for the WTF alternative.
There is no way I would turn a hideously narrow piece like this inside out, so
I stitched it from the outside and just tightened the stitches a lot to make
them disappear into the nap of the wool. It worked, sort of.

Disregarding
the medieval clothes, this type of photographic motif and image angle consist a
so-called “fjortisbild”, favored by 14-year old girls at their most annoying. My
main problems right now it that a) all my other medieval clothing is a bit less
presumptuous and won’t match the hood – I will have to make more stuff! And b)
that the hood itself is so massive that I can’t hear a damn thing while wearing
it.